


[fiddle solo]

by grasssea



Category: Class (TV 2016)
Genre: Bonnie Prince Charlie - Freeform, Folk Music, Friendship, Friendship and Emotional Crises, Gen, Lots Of Little Bits, Miss Quill Always Gets The Last Word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8456479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grasssea/pseuds/grasssea
Summary: Five strangely specific lessons April learned from folk songs. (And the one time she forgot.)





	

**You Can Never Depend On Men (Or Anyone, Really)**

_Her mother, who was truly queen,_  
_She gently then did smile:_  
_'You're not the first, nor only one,_  
_The Scotsmen did beguile.'_  
  
_Come all ye maidens, young and old,_  
_Pray come, be warned of me -_  
_Scots were never, never true._  
_And Scots will never be._

* * *

 

April wasn't Scottish, but her father was. 

Sometimes, he and his bandmates had played a game called How Many Folk Song Based Insults Can We Hurl At Each Other's Nationalities. 

(It was the sort of game that didn't end until everyone was falling down drunk and about to get kicked out of the bar.)

They'd never run out of material, there was just too much. The English hated the Scottish, the Scottish hated the English, everyone hated the French, and the Irish hated everyone. The English were thieving bastards, always stealing the hearts of fair Scottish maidens and leading them to their deaths. The Scottish were, as a whole, untrustworthy seducers who frequently corrupted a fair English Rose and/or killed their fathers. 

April hadn't wondered until she was eight why the poor girls didn't just steer clear of men in general. If they weren't leaving them out in the rain to die or abandoning them at the alter or turning out to be mysterious prophetic faeries they almost always just went and died on you in a climatic battle or a shipwreck. Scottish or English, they were no good. 

Fathers were almost never the heroes in folk songs. At best they were a mild inconvenience, at worst.... well, sometimes it got gory. At worst there was blood and screaming and ambulances and doctors who patted your head and therapists who stared at you through thick lensed glasses like you were some fragile insect under a microscope. 

She never blamed the folk music, after the accident. She figured it couldn't be at fault, after all it had been trying to warn her all along. 

 

Of course, April realized later that this was a rather unfair perspective as the women of folk songs were just as capable of seducing, murdering, and thieving. Everyone in folk songs was arguably awful as awfulness was the sort of thing folk songs got written about. There'd never been a ballad called, Jenny Goes To Sainsburys And Does Some Peaceful Shopping. They weren't meant to be an accurate reflection of reality, most of the time. 

She still wasn't falling for the sweet words of anyone behind prison bars. She knew how that ended. 

 

 

**Everything Is About Sex Or Tragedy (The One Often Follows The Other)**

_"Oh mother, mother, make my bed_  
_Make it soft and narrow_  
_Sweet William died, for love of me,_  
_And I shall of sorrow."_  
  
_They buried her in the old churchyard_  
_Sweet William's grave was neigh hers_  
_And from his grave grew a red, red rose_  
_From hers a cruel briar._

* * *

 

It is often stated that ninety percent of folk music is about people dying or people having sex. This statistic is inaccurate, in fact all folk music is about people dying or having sex, as long as you expand the definition of people dying to include references to family feuds, long lost wars, or Oliver Cromwell. 

The wars and dying is fairly self explanatory, if often metaphorical. Even at her most sheltered, April had always understood where there were ghosts and where there were hallucinations and where the songs were actually talking about graves. She'd delighted in the morbidity of it all, the clandestine acknowledgement that people Died with a capital D and often got a tragic lament in beforehand. 

The sex part had been a little more shocking. Some people got the Talk. April had read an annotated version of Tam Lin and come to her mother with Questions. 

 

"I swear, if April outlives all of us just because she's the only white person who isn't sleeping with someone, I'm going to be very cross." Tanya whispered in the dark of the broom closet. Ram hastily shushed her, they'd just barely gotten away from the murderous alien fugitive and it definitely wasn't the time for quips. 

Sadly, quipping once started is hard to control. 

"What does she mean?" Charlie whispered back, the sort of whisper that carried too far, too loud. Ram silenced him a loud shushing that only added to the problem. 

"It's a horror movie thing. " Tanya said. 

"Shut up!" Ram hissed, and they finally fell silent. 

When the coast was clear and they began to creep out of their hiding places, April felt the need to make a correction. 

"I probably won't last the longest, you know." she said, "Half a heart and everything. I think you're our last girl, Tanya."

Tanya looked genuinely pleased. "I'd like to think so. I am smarter than all the rest of you."

"And I mean, it's not like not having sex is an automatic win. Look at Joan of Arc," April added, "So I think I'm about to die I'm definitely going to try to get laid first."

The shocked stares were their own reward. Sometimes it paid to know what was going on. 

 

**If You're Virtuous You Might At Least Get A Song Named After You Though**

_I wish I were where Helen Lies._  
_For night and day on me she cries;_  
_For night and day on me she cries._  
_I wish I were where Helen lies_  
_on fair Kirkconnell lea._  
_Oh Helen Fair, Oh Helen chaste!_  
_Were I with thee, I would be blest,_  
_Were I with thee I would be blest._  
_Where thou liest low and at they rest_  
_On fair Kirkconnell lea._

* * *

 

April figured you could do worse in life than being a dramatically dead fair maiden. 

The death part was obviously a downside, nobody wanted to die. But everyone died eventually, and if you absolutely had to, you wanted to be remembered, right? 

It wasn't a very sensible thought. In fact it was the opposite of sensible. It was downright romantic. Still, she thought she was entitled to a little bit of romanticism. It was like chocolate, the trick was just to not go overboard. And at the end of the day, there was something terribly reassuring about the idea that if you were kind and loyal and brave, even if it got you killed, you might still be remembered. 

She was no Sir Patrick Spens, not by a long shot, but surely someone would think back to her. Some teacher or doctor would think, that April MacLean, such a dependable, brave girl. So strong. 

Small consolation though it was, she held onto it. 

Everyone had to have their little dreams. 

 

"You know what the worst part is?" Ram said, around a mouthful of egg and cress sandwich. "The worst part is that no one remembers! They just all ignore it. Like if they pretend our school isn't full of death the death will just go away."

"I'd think that would be a good thing," Charlie said, sounding baffled. "It means they aren't panicking all the time, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, but it also means that we're putting our lives in danger every day and nobody gives a damn." Ram pointed out. "And that tomorrow there will be more people, coming to school like nothing's the matter, putting themselves in danger all over again, when really this place needs to be shut down and Area 51'd."

"I'm not sure that would help." Tanya said, looking up from her book. "The rift spreads too far, and it's to sneaky. You'd have to evacuate the whole district, and they'd never do that."

"Still, it would be nice to get a little bit of appreciation." Ram said. "Or at least a break from homework."

Despite herself, April couldn't help but agree. There was a coldness to the thought that she could die tomorrow, fighting an alien invasion, and nobody would know. Her mum would think she'd just gone missing, like Rachel or Alex or Poppy. It was the sort of thing that could keep you up at night, if you let it. April hadn't so far, but it had come close. 

"It is kind of sad," she said softly. "The idea of dying without anyone noticing. Not that I think we should start a panic! That's just not practical."

"Always practical," Ram scoffed, then took a closer look at her face and softened. "It's just, Rachel was murdered. And no one knows. Her parents don't know. That's awful."

"I think we can all agree on that." Tanya said. There was a moment of silence as everyone contemplated their lunches. April found she suddenly didn't have much of an appetite, and passed the last of her crisps over to Charlie, who was always happy to eat something other than canteen food. 

"If you die, I will remember you." Matteusz piped up. April thought it was a sweet sentiment. Tanya just poked him. 

"It's cute that you think you're not dying with us," she said. "But you're in this too."

April wrapped her arms around her knees. 

"We could write letters," she suggested, "To our parents and stuff." She already had, to tell the truth. Nothing that would worry her mum, just a note, carefully hidden in her sock drawer, telling her how much she loved her. It was the sort of thing she could get away with, anyone who found it would probably interpret it as a typical April move, cautious and sweet to last. 

"How about a pact?" Tanya said. "That if all the rest of us die, whoever is left will... will remember them."

There were murmurs of relieved agreement, a quiet clasping of hands, Tanya's earnest voice ordering them all to never forget, no matter what. 

"If it's any consolation, you're all very heroic," Charlie said. "On my home planet, there would be, there would be epic poems about you. About us."

April tried to hide the grin sneaking up on her. It was a weird reassurance, but somehow reassuring none the less. 

"We are kind of badass." Ram agreed, melancholy lightened. "Aren't we?"

It wasn't a folk song, but it was still the best compliment she'd ever gotten, by a long shot. 

 

 

**Sometimes Everything Wants To Kill You For No Apparent Reason**

_Dear father! Dear father!_  
_O blame not of me;_  
_For it was false Lamkin_  
_Murder'd baby and she._  
  
_Here's blood in the kitchen,_  
_Here's blood in the hall,_  
_Here's blood in the parlour,_  
_Where the Lady did fall._

* * *

 

 As Tanya often put it, there didn't have to be a reason for the murderous aliens to murder. They just did. Motives were almost a bonus at this point. 

There wasn't a reason for the Shadowkin, as far as April could tell, and she'd had ample opportunity to get into _their_ heads. Or head, singular. One head in particular. 

Her and Corakinus had almost started to tolerate each other. 

It wasn't much, but there was only so much seething hatred you could muster up for one another, especially if your name was April and you weren't very good at hatred to begin with. After a while the flashes of pain and thought had stopped being so dramatic. The intensity hadn't lessened, but they'd both learned to cope and move on with their lives. 

Collapse, writhe in pain, flash into the life of someone you despise on principal, then dust yourself off and carry on. Chin up and keep smiling, as April's Nan had often said. 

She wished the new nonchalance came with some sort of understanding, some sympathy or empathy, but none appeared. She still couldn't fathom why Charlie's people, Quill's people, had to die. She wasn't even sure there's was a reason. There was just... anger. Indiscriminate rage at the universe at large and somethings in particular. 

Oh, there's self preservation as well, a muted affection for his fellows, pride in a job well done, planet properly slaughtered, that sort of thing. But there's no overarching ideals or tragic backstory. No debt unpaid or insult to be avenged, not even an evil parent to blame. 

April had grown up on stories of the Fair Folk, strange and inscrutable, but she'd never really believed anyone could truly be that cold. She'd never thought there was such a thing as evil, just people who did evil things. 

But, the Shadowkin weren't really people, were they?

 

"You would have liked the festivals," Charlie said wistfully. "There was lots of music, different from earth music. Much lower, and it was played on instruments that looked like..." he frowned, "Like those things they use to clean the halls at school?"

"The brooms?" April said skeptically. 

"Yes, the very, very large ones. Except they made out of the branches of very old trees." Charlie's hands moved as he talked, tugging at the air like he could pull images of his home world out of it, to show them all. His face lit up too, sad and joyous all at once. 

"What did it sound like?" Matteusz asked gently, always gentle when Charlie got like this. Rhodia was a ghost in the room, a beautiful ghost, but a ghost all the same. 

Charlie's frown deepened, "It's hard to describe, I don't know if human ears hear in the same range. It was like, like the rushing in your ears when you've run too fast, too far."

"Like a heartbeat." April murmured, and stood suddenly. "I'm going to see what's taking the popcorn so long," she said, and fled, trying to ignore Charlie's concerned expression behind her and Matteusz's soothing whisper. 

Ram and Tanya were in the kitchen, a smooth vegetable cutting operation. Ram handed April a knife as she walked over to them, and gestured her towards a bag of carrots. 

"My dad doesn't have popcorn in the house, he's on a health food spree again." he explained. "So we're making do."

"Is Charlie still talking about, you know?" Tanya asked as she shook crackers out onto a plate. 

"Yeah." April tried to smile. 

"I thought you usually liked that?" 

April tried to focus on the veggie platter. "I do but, it's weird. Sometimes when he's talking I get this feeling I've seen it all before. That I've heard it. It's... weird." She could feel her heart thumping under her breastbone, the steady thud of her life, and his.

Ram grimaced. "Right. Alien heart."

"I don't like feeling like I know things he knows," April admitted, the words rushing out of her. "It makes me worry that I might be feeling what he feels without knowing it and that's-"

"Bad." Tanya summarized. "If it's any help at all, you're like the least murderous person out there. If you started channeling the Genocidal Smoke Monster of the year, we'd notice."

April's cheeks were starting to hurt. "Right. Yeah. It's just, weird, to feel like you might understand someone like that. Sympathize with him. Not that there's much to sympathize with, murder all around pretty much."

Ram's Adam apple bobbed, and April flinched. Tanya put down her cracker box and glared at both of them. 

"No weirdness. If we're going to get through all the James Bond movies by Monday, we need to be a team. April is April, we're all traumatized, so lets just try to be kids for once, okay?"

They nodded, and went back to their work. Slow steady therapist approved breathing fit well with the rhythm of chopping and slicing. 

She'd learned young that people didn't need a reason to hurt you. It was harder to fathom that they might not need a reason to hurt anyone, but she had to try. 

(She could hear her heartbeat, resonating in her head.)

 

 

**Always Bet On Bonnie Prince Charlie**

_Come owre the stream Charlie,_  
_Dear Charlie, brave Charlie,_  
_Come owre the the stream Charlie,_  
_And dine wi' MacLean;_  
_And though you be weary_  
_We'll mak' your heart cheery,_  
_And welcome our Charlie;_  
_And his loyal train._

* * *

 

It doesn't matter that he lost, it's all about the style of the thing, the romance of it all. 

Royal destiny, secret love, running from the authorities, subverting the power, bravery in the face of oppression. The sort of things that sound prettier than they are, nice words on top of bloody truths. A sweet victory song for a vicious defeat, a clarion call for the slaughtered. There's a strange beauty to the sheer optimism of the average Jacobite shanty. "Burned are our homes, exile and death/Scatter the loyal men/Yet, e'er the sword cool in the sheath/Charlie will come again" She's a sap for buying into it, but sometime you have to believe in lost causes. It's the only thing that makes life worth living. 

(It had actually taken her a few days post reveal to put things together. In her defense, it had all been a bit hectic. It wasn't until Tanya ironically referred to him as "our Prince Charlie" in a phone conversation that she'd remembered, put the pieces together, and giggled hysterically into her pillow for ten straight minutes.) 

There's nothing more romantic than an exiled prince, banished from the throne but silently supported. You can't help but root for that sort of story. She can't help but root for it. 

Besides, the potential for bad jokes is _immense_. 

 

He was late for class one day, god only know how since he lived with a teacher. She suspected someone stole his books again. Some of the rugby boys are bullies, especially when it comes to those who won't fight back. 

"I see you've finally decided to show up." Miss Quill snapped, electricity practically sparking off her skin. It's some sort of testament to her sheer willpower that she could be so mean while tied to someone so nice. "Well, sit down. We don't have all day."

He hurried to his seat, mild as a lamb, and gave April a smile. 

"Welcome, Royal Charlie" she whispered, quietly but not quietly enough to avoid Miss Quill's icy stare. 

He looked puzzled, but nodded, a polite acknowledgement that yes, he was the royal Charlie. 

The next opportunity came at assembly. Somehow, they'd gotten into the habit of all sitting together, the five of them. After a while, it was weirder to sit apart. You could only save the world together so many times before you got a bit attached. The deputy head was talking about drug awareness, a subject that seemed odd given that drugs were way down the list of things likely to kill people at Coal Hill. Ram was already looking antsy, and Matteusz was on his phone. 

"Does anyone else feel a tiny bit talked down to?" Tanya whispered. "We've saved the world. I don't need to be told not to give into negative peer influences. For one thing my mum would kill me."

"Honestly," Ram said. "Where are our assemblies on resisting evil blood thirsty dragons?"

"Not trusting strangers with internet games." Matteusz added. 

"Right." Tanya said. "This is rubbish."  
  
Ram yawned, "I'm game to start a full scale revolt if you are." He was barely bothering with whispers at this point. Their classmates were staring.

"If anyone is starting revolts it's Charlie." April mused. "He does have the whole princely legacy going for him."

Tanya, all-around nerd that she was, smirked. "There's a full scale Aragorn style revolution right there." she patted Charlie, who looked gently bemused on the shoulder. "Look it up later."

Miss Quill was starting to give them dark looks, so they shut up, but kept trading glances and giggles. It was, April had to admit, much more fun than her old assembly routine of actually listening, even if poor Mrs. McGlynnis deserved more than a sea of giggling. 

 

Sweet as he was, she'd sometimes forget that Charlie was actually taught to rule. 

Sometimes, he reminded them. 

Like when they'd been dealing with the slime alien in the pipes, and he and Tanya had lit it on fire, or when there'd been an alien fugitive posing as one of the cooks, and he'd threatened to call the intergalactic authorities unless it went back through the rift.

Or now. 

 

April toppled to the ground and found the fight already won around her. The Pod People, as Tanya had called them, had clearly left in a rather dramatic way. She thought she could see bits of them on the walls. Matteusz was next to her, blinking the goop out of his eyes. Charlie is above them already working on Miss Quill's pod. 

"How was that for a rescue?" Charlie said, voice light but still worried. 

"Two hundred years too late, Sweet Charlie," April said, trying to keep her cool and mostly failing. She can feel sobs trapped in her lungs, the feeling of pressure and panic still lingering from her capture. "But pretty well done."

 

 

 

( **\+ Never Discount The Underdog**

It would have all been a lot clearer if Miss Quill wasn't so mean. More than mean, deadly, really. She's made it clear on more than one occasion that she wouldn't mind seeing April dead. Even if they all know, objectively, that slavery is wrong and that mind control isn't quite right, it's hard to argue that they'd be better off if Miss Quill wasn't stuck with that thing in her head, keeping her from murdering everyone. 

Once in a while, in the middle of the night, when she can't breath because he heart is a-wandering and she has images of ash and shadow fresh on her mind, April remembers that she isn't the only one, bound mind and life and body to someone she hates. But she tries to put those thoughts out of her mind. It's better this way, isn't it. 

 

"Alright," Miss Quill said, hands on her hips. "What are you lot blabbering about?"

"I thought you didn't want to know," Charlie said innocently. She glowered. 

"I didn't. But then you lot started making an abominable amount of noise in my house, so either explain or leave. Preferably the latter."

"We're just playing a game." Tanya told her, "You know, games?"

Miss Quill gave her a dark look, slightly less sharp than she might have given any of the rest of them. It isn't hard to tell Tanya's her favorite. "The sort of games I remember playing as a child involved knives. Yours seem to involve a lot of talking."

"It's Two Truths And A Lie." Charlie said, "I don't like the lying, but otherwise it's quite fun."

April tagged in, mostly because Charlie was starting to look uncomfortable under Quill's scrutiny. "You say three things, and one of them has to be a lie and the other two have to be true and everyone else has to guess which ones the lie."

"The trick is to make them all really weird." Tanya said. "Like, Matteusz just said that he had a pet rabbit as a kid, that he's allergic to kiwi, and that he speaks Russian. And we all said it's that he's speaks Russian but apparently he isn't really allergic to kiwi, as far as he knows."

"I still don't think that counts." Ram grumbled. "You don't know that much Russian."

Matteusz shrugged. "выкуси."

"It sounds mindbogglingly insipid." Quill informed them, and sat down on the arm of the chair April was in. "I'll play."

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. "You really don't have to."

"And miss out on all the fun?" Quill bared her teeth. "Now, let's see. Two truths and a lie. You're a hypocrite with the freedom of another living being in your hands and too much guilt to admit it," she smiled at Charlie, then turned to Matteusz, "you're a hopeless romantic with no idea what you're really in a relationship with and, lets see... I'd kill you all if I had the chance." She stood and headed for the stairs. "Two truths and a lie, figure it out amongst yourselves. Oh, and keep it down, some of us have papers to grade."

Miss Quill might have taught physics, but what she really specialized was leaving stunned silences in her wake. April's stomach turned. 

There was always a small revenge for the discounted and oppressed, however Pyrrhic it might be, wasn't there? But Miss Quill didn't really count. She couldn't. They had enough on their plates already.)


End file.
